


The Things I've Learned About You

by K4nspachi



Series: Deepest fears, deepest desires [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Episode: s10e22 The Prisoner, Flashbacks, M/M, Rough Sex, Sort Of Fluff, Violence, alternative ending, handjobs, the mark of cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K4nspachi/pseuds/K4nspachi
Summary: Alternative scene for what went down in the bunker, after Dean had killed the Stynes and Castiel had found him.Castiel savoured the little details of their relationship, like their first kiss, small fights, insecurities and and newly found courage to step into that unknown, before the mark of Cain had corrupted Dean. The mark forced a rift between them, as Dean's hunger for violence became too much to bear. All of that frustration and anger just exploded when the two men had a final confrontation in the bunker, violent punches turning into rough kisses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I just wanted to write some hatesex but then some sort of plot just happened. The story is set after Castiel confronts Dean about the bodies, but after that I just sort of rewrote everything because it's easier that way. It's set in the same storyline as my previous oneshot in the series Deepest fears, deepest desires, but can be read as a stand-alone. English isn't my native language, so any corrections in the grammar and so forth are always welcome. As is feedback!

_"And when you turn, and you will turn, Sam and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me."_

They had always feared this. About going too far. It shouldn't have come as a such shock and surprise, but all the talk and anticipation can't always prepare you, when you're actually faced with the reality of it. Dean had talked about it. He had told them to be ready, ready to do what must be done. They had seen glimpses of what the mark could make Dean become, but always blindly hoped for the best. They just didn't want see the monster inside him.

Castiel had seen it now. He had seen it in Dean's handwork, with the animalistic cuts and the mangled bodies left behind in his rage, and he feared. He feared and loathed the mark, how it had devoured Dean. And he wondered, how was there ever such a time they still thought they could beat this. With bright eyes and optimistic smiles they had sworn that this was just another obstacle, making something akin a spark of hope light a new fire in Dean's eyes. Now only killing made those dead eyes come alive. And still they had to believe and fight, struggle against what felt like walking against stormy waves.

Dean stood in front of him, blood spattered all over his skin and clothes. He was hunched like a tense predator, with a dangerous glint in his eyes, _his beautiful eyes_ , and Castiel imagined the man was ready to shred him to pieces.

Piles of books had been gathered in the middle of the room, ancient tomes and modern works alike, tossed around with no regard to their value. Two dead bodies, the remaining Stynes, were lying sprawled on the floor, coloring it with symmetrical, dark red pools of blood. This was Dean. This was all Dean. Staining his own home with violence.

"Dean. You can still stop this." Castiel held up his hands, futile gesture to calm the raging whirlwind of a man before him. Dean cocked his head slightly, as if the language was foreign and he had to strain himself to understand the meaning of the words.

"Stop? What if I don't want to?" His voice was deeper, darker, escaping from his lips like he was coming out of a dream.

"I don't want to hurt you." Castiel shook his head, determined not let the other man's words affect him. Dean fixed his hungry eyes upon him, piercing through like a blade.

"Oh, I don't think you can."

Dean grabbed Castiel by his collar with the ferocity of an attacking wild beast, his bloody fist connecting with his jaw. The angel was momentarily just blinking away the sudden whiteness when Dean threw him against the doorway hard. Castiel crashed down on the floor, spitting out the blood that made his mouth taste like warm iron. So yes, the mark had made him a lot stronger. Castiel stumbled up, finding the other man already lunging at him, teeth bared in a snarl. The second punch hit his nose, the third his mouth. He could feel little rivulets of blood start to run down his lips and jaw, even though his face was numb from the blows. And all the while he was fighting himself, _fight back, stop him,_ when Dean was just mauling him. The fourth punch threw him down, and Castiel took few shaky breaths to regulate the incoming pain, searching for any hesitation in Dean's ruthless eyes when he stood over the angel. But his mercy was all spent out.

 

* * *

 

Beer runs had been the keyword to their tentatively blossoming relationship. Dean had taken to asking Castiel to join him on doing various chores, mostly under the disguise of beer runs, tiptoeing around the subject of how he liked spending time with him. There had been subtle changes in the way they had acted around each other ever since Castiel said the words Dean deserved to hear, _I will never leave you again._ A door had been opened, and they were supposed to figure out what was beyond it. Dean had slowly started to rely on his presence more, ensuring his whereabouts and wellbeing more often, almost like he did always for Sam, asking him with to their cases, to just hang around in the bunker. Just as quickly Dean had reverted to his old habits, sharp comments rolling off his tongue about angels and their douchbagness, enclosing in himself, ready to be disappointed if Castiel disappeared on him again.

Their beer runs had always threatened to stretch into late hours, Dean taking him to local pubs for drinks, breaking into a small movie theater to catch that latest movie Dean had wanted to see and just taking the Impala out for a ride. The man had seemed to burst with energy when he was coming up with things to do that he wanted to share with Castiel, touching his shoulder more than usual, brushing occasionally against him when they sat side by side. For Castiel, anything Dean was willing to give him had always been good enough for him, so he had said yes to their adventures, earning him a hearty grin every time.

"Going on a beer run?" Sam would ask them, as innocently as he could, when Dean and Castiel would hurry past him in the study.

"Yup." Dean would reply with a tone that didn't make room for any more questions.

"You've been doing a lot of that", Sam would shout after them, and Castiel could hear the badly hidden amusement in his voice. Dean would point his middle finger very moodily at his brother, not even glancing back. Castiel hadn't minded the teasing or the transparent excuses, not as long as Dean was okay with it, under all his snarky exterior. All of them had known what was going on from early on, even Castiel had picked up on the signals, but labeling their thing something as trivial as a beer run made it lot easier for Dean to handle than having to deal with the fact that he might have romantic feelings towards another man.

The first thing Castiel had learned about Dean was that he could act like a teenage boy around his first crush when it came to relationships. From what he had gathered, Dean was all about drunken one-night stands, but Castiel had found out that there existed also a romantic under all that spike and sarcasm.

They had been driving aimlessly in the Impala, mercilessly exhausting the back roads in the middle of nowhere, Dean behind the wheel and Castiel in the shotgun seat. They had sat in a comfortable silence just taking in each other's company, as they often did. Then at some point, Dean had started to steal sideway glances at him, not saying anything but Castiel could feel the whole energy of the space between them shifting, electrifying. After a while Dean had steered the car in the side of the road, silencing Castiel's questions with a nervous smile before he had the mind to ask them, as he had turned the ignition off. He had stared at the wheel, all jittery, while Castiel had waited for him to gather his courage, whatever he wanted to say.

"Okay, might as well get it over with, because I really wanna do this", Dean had muttered almost to himself, and before Castiel could ask what he meant by that, Dean had grabbed the angel's collar without a word and yanked him closer, bringing their lips together. Castiel had blinked, surprised, but let him easily, studying the rhythm of his lips and slowly beginning to match Dean's brash movements, tasting alcohol and something sweet, something that was uniquely Dean. To this day, the angel still remembered the thrill, the familiarity of it, pieces of an intricate puzzle finally finding their places, as Dean's fingers had tentatively caressed his hair in the midst of kisses. When the kiss had deepened, breath hot against each other's lips, Dean had pulled away abruptly. He slinked back to his own seat, not quite looking at Castiel, as if he was ashamed about how eager he had been. Castiel had touched his cheek hesitantly, not quite yet knowing what would set the other man off in the wrong moment.

"Thank you." He had simply said, the taste of Dean still lingering in his mouth. The words had unlocked the built-up tension in the hunter, and Dean had chuckled, glancing in Castiel's direction in mock disbelief.

"Really? A thank you? That's a one way to ruin the moment." Although his voice had carried a sarcastic undertone, he had seemed somewhat relieved. Dean's confidence had always carried him far, but when it came to Castiel, nothing seemed to be that clear-cut any longer.

"I would like to do that again some time." Castiel had continued with his usual seriousness, placing his hand on Dean's, squeezing the sweaty palm. Dean had blushed slightly, opening his mouth to speak, but no words had come out. He had wrested his hand from Castiel's grasp with an awkward chuckle, and it was like he could only pull himself together when he wasn't too close to Castiel, drunk on his presence. He had cleared his throat, giving him a lopsided grin, still kind of shakier than Castiel had ever seen him, eyes bright.

"Yeah yeah Casanova, stop trying to smooth talk me." And he had started the car with the familiar roar of engine, and Castiel had known without looking that Dean also had that dumbstruck smile awkwardly spreading all over his face, similar to his. Castiel had bit his cheek to stop the feeling from bubbling all over his limbs and body. Who knew happiness could be such a physical feeling.

 

* * *

 

 

"Dean. You don't have to do this." Castiel let out the raspy words, clambering up in the middle of some books, little shaky. He kept eyeing the man in alarm as he was collecting himself, slightly surprised that Dean allowed him this little pause. The man kept pacing back and forth in front of him, and Castiel could feel it. The erratic, violent pulse echoing in the back of his own skull that kept the hunter moving so restlessly. Dean was hardly the master of his urges no longer, but he wasn't gone yet.

"Why won't you fight back?" Dean barked angrily.

"I don't want to." Castiel punctuated each word defiantly, facing Dean, all bloody and bruised. The angel with the will of humans. He knew that Dean would've been proud, under different circumstances.

"Well maybe I want you to." Dean spread his hands, inviting Castiel to take a hit. Castiel frowned, not sure what Dean was getting at.

"Come on, just fucking hit me!" Dean's voice rose, until he was screaming at Castiel, eyes harsh with anger.

"Just stop this, okay? Nobody has to hurt anyone!" Castiel could feel his tranquility chipping away fast, piece by piece.

"That's bullshit, I want a fucking fight, so fucking fight me back!" Castiel saw the flash of Dean's eyes before he charged for him again, giving him ample warning. He tried reaching for that endless calm inside him one last time, but found only turmoil and wrath. Fine. The world of men was of violence, so to that he would turn to. Castiel grabbed Dean's incoming fist with one graceful movement, twisting it back, and hit him hard with all of his power, sending him spiraling through the room. He felt his whole figure grow taller, eyes glowing blue, as he walked closer to Dean, who was swiftly on his feet again, coiling himself for the next attack.

"You forget your place. I am still an angel of the lord." His broken wings spread out, useless, but ever the image of unrelenting force. Dean let out a dark, mirthless chuckle.

"Now it's a fair fight."

 

* * *

 

 

The second thing Castiel had learned about Dean was that he could get uncomfortable with their closeness sometimes. When they had been alone, Dean was usually the one who initiated touch. Castiel had allowed him that from the beginning, letting Dean set the pace, never wanting to overstep his bounds, as Dean could back away fast when their intimacy became too much. It had been an intricate dance, following the other man's little nuances and hidden meanings under his often gruff speech, and reacting accordingly. Castiel still felt like he failed a lot in that account, which always reminded him of the fragility of their relationship, when Dean shut himself from him or wanted to be left alone.

Castiel had had joined everyone else for dinner in the library, a large selection of Chinese food that had looked tasty, at least if he had tasted anything else than randomly merged particles. Sam and Charlie had both offered a smile when they had seen him enter the room, engaged in their conversation. Dean had been shoving rice and chicken in his mouth at a hasty pace, grumbling about how nerds they were, mouth full of food, his broad back facing him. As Castiel had passed him, he had traced his fingers along his shoulder blades, caressing Dean's short hair in passing when he walked by to take his own seat next to him, but the hunter just shied away from the gentle touch.

"Whoa, what's with the grabby hands?" Dean had instantly snapped at him, making everyone look up and pause their conversation. Castiel had been taken aback by his words, but almost instantly slapping himself mentally for forgetting their unspoken rules.

"Come on Dean, it's not like it's a secret anymore. Ain't nobody gonna get hurt by seeing you boys show some love", Charlie had chirped, looking little confused, flashing a disarming smile. Sam just had looked at Dean pointedly, probably giving some kind of signal only the brothers understood. Castiel had smiled politely in response to Charlie's comment, sitting down, but Dean had snapped his head to throw him a look of _don't_.

"Is that my shirt?" He had asked immediately, eyeing Castiel's black t-shirt with a frown darkening his features. He's a ticking time bomb, Castiel had thought to himself, and this was not clearly a good day.

"Umm, yes?" Castiel had replied cautiously, looking for tells that would give hints when the other man would blow up. Dean had thrown him an exasperated look, clenching his jaw, throwing his fork on the plate.

"You", he had emphasized, pointing at Castiel, "-can't borrow my shirts without asking. And you can all stop treating us like a married couple." He had gotten up, muttering about getting a beer, and Castiel had eyed his retreating back as he had stormed towards the kitchen, confusion written all over his face.

"Did I do something wrong?" He had leaned towards Sam, expecting him to have all the answers. Sam had simply shrugged wearing his emphatic expression, chewing food thoughtfully.

"You know how Dean is. He isn't used to relationships, especially like this, so it takes a while for him to adjust." Sam had smiled at him reassuringly.

"Don't worry. You're doing okay. It's his own crap he needs to sort through, and he can be kind of a dick about it." But Castiel couldn't shake the worry. He had been willing to do anything for Dean, right from the beginning when he first had laid eyes on him, all righteous and full of fury. Accepting mistakes was hard, and he ended up placing blame solely on himself, asking every time how could he do better for Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel was reminded of a bloodthirsty beast when Dean lunged at him again, almost growling, animalistic rage clouding his eyes, and now Castiel was ready for this kind of bullfight. They collided roughly, punching, kicking, grasping for whatever they could sink their nails into, fighting for footing, not giving in an inch. The primal need to hurt was far beneath them, but Castiel only wanted to see the other man give up and come back to his senses. And Dean just wanted to break him down. Castiel took a ruthless hit in the ribs without a complaint and aimed for Dean's nose, feeling the delicate bone give in a little under his knuckles. The hunter took a step back, dazed, blood dribbling down his lips and chin. Castiel used the brief window of opportunity to grab Dean and rammed him against a bookshelf, not caring about the valuable books that clattered down from the mistreated furniture, feeling grim joy at the sound of breathless grunt Dean made.

"A fair fight? Against me? Is this just a game to you?!" He spat out his rage, faces inches apart, ignoring Dean's struggle against his hold when he immediately shot his hands up, snaking around his wrists, snarling, until he tore the angel's hands off his shirt like the touch was intolerable.

"What about you? An angel of the lord? Who are you kidding, you're _nothing_ ", Dean hissed, shoving Castiel off him with force. The words felt like a dagger slipping through his armor, and he couldn’t hide naked hurt in his eyes. Dean had hit the jackpot with that one. He was nothing. He had cast away his heritage for Dean, and now he had failed him again, lost him. Dean looked back with bleak resolve, raising his eyebrows, like he was saying _well, whatcha got?_ But it wasn't about the severity of insults no longer. It was about what drove him onward, all that sophisticated machinery inside them what made Castiel who he was. And Dean had found a weak spot in his.

"If I'm nothing, it's because of you, Dean. I have given up _everything_ I was for you!" His voice cracked, their brutal showdown forgotten momentarily. Storm passed through Dean's face, and he clenched his jaw in a way that told Castiel that whatever he said would only make it worse. Emotions had always amazed him, how much more complex they were than he had ever imagined. When he was still learning about humanity, the whole spectrum had been a wonder to marvel, and to learn in firsthand how layered they were made Castiel appreciate humans even more. About Dean he had learned that his anger stemmed from many basic emotions, fear, frustration, loss, and underneath all that was always his need to protect his brother. And now for Castiel, his anger came from a fear of losing Dean. But he hated the gut-wrenching feeling.

"I didn't ask for any of that!" Dean roared back, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. A new flame of anger surged through Castiel's blood, and he closed the gap between the men, swinging at him and Dean didn't even try to block the punch, almost stumbling back from the impact, cheek bruised with another mark.

"You're the one who never wanted me to leave you!" Dean regained his balance quickly and stood tall, intimidating, their bodies almost pressed together. His hazel eyes narrowed at Castiel's words.

"You're the one who betrayed me. Again." He jabbed his finger into Castiel's chest, voice thick with accusation.

"I'm saving you!" Castiel refused to back off, not an inch, standing just as tall.

"Charlie's death is on your hands!" Dean yelled, looking like it took everything he had to keep his body in control. It probably took. The corruption of the mark wasn’t subtle.

"And how much blood is on your hands?" Castiel waved his hand toward the bodies on the floor who looked like they were laying very still to catch every word of their argument, spilling brain matter from their bullet entry points, judging silently. Dean inhaled sharply, and Castiel was certain that the man would try to rip him to pieces. He, however, wasn't certain which one was it who leaned closer and pressed their mouths together hungrily. Suddenly they were kissing, violently, without any regard to their bruises, blood smearing their lips, demanding hands sinking into each other's scalp and hair.

 

* * *

 

 

The third thing he had learned about Dean, was that he would give all of himself to the things and people he held closest to him. He had showed it countless of times with his actions, the selfless sacrifices, the caretaking. The loyal big brother, the dedicated friend, now the lover that would bleed his heart out for him. The hunter had always been rough around the edges and lacking the softness of his brother, but there were moments when his facade slipped and he let his affection shine through.

Castiel had lingered in the doorway of Dean's room, watching the man breathe steadily in the dark, hazel eyes closed as he had laid on his bed, deep in slumber. He hadn't dared to wake up the hunter, settling for guarding his dreams. Castiel had been away for some time, and seeing Dean always felt like coming home. He must've sighed too loudly and somehow through his hunter's reflexes, Dean had heard him and opened his eyes sharply, a gun ready in his hand, pointing at the door before he had been probably even awake.

"Hi", Castiel had said quietly, not reacting to his manner of welcome in any way. A surprised smile had brightened Dean's features, chasing away the sleepiness, and he had set the gun down, relaxing on the bed.

"Hi", he had returned, voice still hoarse from sleep. Castiel had felt all his sorrows and worries just melt away from the smile, and he hadn't wondered any longer why humans drew strength from having someone waiting for them.

"I'm back", he had shrugged tiredly, offering a light smile in return.

"What are you standing there for?" Dean had patted the bed, holding Castiel's gaze in his own, propping up on his elbow.

"But I don't sleep." Castiel had answered, making the other man look at him pointedly.

"I'm tired of repeating this conversation again. Get your angelic ass in the bed." Although his  demeanor had been grumpy, Dean had offered a small smile that made his eyes wrinkle in a way Castiel liked, and he couldn't pull away from him. He had removed his jacket, folding it carefully on the chair and climbing into the space Dean had cleared for him in the bed. Dean had pulled his covers over him, letting his hand rest over his abdomen, and shifting his warm body closer when Castiel had settled in.

"Hi", Castiel had repeated, feeling his whole body hum in the other man's proximity, not daring to break eye contact. Dean had made a satisfied noise, and run his fingers through the angel's coarse stubble.

"Damn it's good to see you", Dean had whispered, hovering over his mouth for a time that felt like eternity, then planting a light kiss on his lips. Castiel had kissed him back with the same tentativeness, until Dean had found his brashness again and started demanding more, letting his tongue caress Castiel's mouth, all the while untying his black tie with sure fingers, slipping it off and throwing it on the floor. Castiel had opened his mouth, letting Dean ravage him. He had pulled the hunter even closer by his hair, feeling Dean's hand trail paths along his chest and stomach. Dean's muscular body had been pressed against his side, grinding against him slowly. That had been a new feeling, and Castiel had definitely liked it, but drudgingly he had made himself more still, kisses lighter, not to spur the other man on. He had felt Dean's smile into the kiss. They had talked about this once, when Dean had thought it was ridiculous they were going slow like lovesick virgins, but underneath the complaining he seemed to appreciate it all the same because in a way, it was completely new for them both."Gotta protect your chastity", Dean had smirked, always in the end turning it into a joke that Castiel didn't quite get.

Dean had slowed down, but still had been trailing a line of kisses on the side of his jaw, scraping his stubble against Castiel's. He had fumbled a few buttons open, sliding his fingers under his collar and exposing the angel's neck, planting a path there with his lips, making Castiel shiver.

"The neck kissing is new. Is this your way of greeting me when you've missed me?" Castiel had murmured, making Dean lift his head, scoffing amusedly.

"Don't expect me to get all soft on you now, angel boy", he had grumbled back, settling in, broad chest against Castiel's frame, arm draped comfortably over him.

"I missed you when I was gone", Castiel had offered, testing the atmosphere, entwining his fingers with Dean.

"Now you're just being sappy." The hunter had accepted the contact despite his grumbling, pressing his nose against Castiel's neck.

"Is that bad?"

"Shut up and sleep", Dean had mumbled, nuzzling against his neck. That was about the closest he would get to a _missed you too_ , as Dean would never utter those words freely from his mouth.

 

* * *

 

 

Their brutal kiss ended abruptly when Dean shoved him back, licking the blood from his lips. But the look in his eyes had changed, shifted so slightly that only Castiel could read it. Lust. The shove wasn't born of need to hurt, it was an invitation for him. This dance he knew better, they had danced to it many a time, only this time they were hardly a step away from killing each other. Even though their love had never been easy, they never had actually tried to hurt each other. It was all born of trust and the bond they had that allowed them be without pretense. There was a lot of softness in there too, the little touches and looks in the midst of all that barbed wire that was their lives. It reminded the men that they belonged to each other. But violence, sex, they seemed to be all means to an end for the mark, an intense rush of pleasure and relief, and it had inevitably changed their relationship. Dean seemed like he wanted to kill him now, but more so, he _wanted_ him. And even in his wrath, Castiel couldn't ignore what Dean needed, wanted.

Dean approached him, tension in his body that was rigged to explode, and the world narrowed down to Castiel's rapidly beating heart and his still body that was prepared to weather whatever outburst Dean would reward him with. Dean stopped right in front of him, tempting Castiel to take this further, plain thirst clouding his eyes. Noses almost touching, lips hovering over lips, bodies radiating anticipatory heat, they moved, synchronized little movements that had their bodies coiling around each other’s orbits. Finally Castiel leaned in closer, blood pounding in his ears, wanting to taste the blood on his lips again. Dean jerked his head back, just enough that Castiel couldn’t touch him. The air around them buzzed with electricity. Hot breath on his lips, Castiel searched the hunter's eyes and found sheer defiance there. He wanted to do this the hard way. Be the beast and let Castiel be the hunter.

Castiel took a step forward, forcing Dean to move with him. The hunter just kept waiting for his big move, backing down slowly so he would be ahead of Castiel’s movements, their eyes never leaving each other, ready to rebel against the angel. They stopped when Dean's back hit the wall, and the hunter gave him a crooked smirk. It was a twisted version of his smiles that had brought sunshine into the room, and Castiel’s heart wrung in his chest momentarily with longing for the man in the past.

“This your grand plan?” Dean spoke out, amusement dripping from the words, warm breath ghosting over his face, looking like he was anything but in a hurry to get out of this situation. The words almost felt like a tease, except his features became void of any emotion the following second, like sustaining normal interaction felt too difficult for him.

“I could snap your neck any second. Beat you down and leave you here bloody.” Dean murmured the threats quietly, leaving their impact hang in the air like a noose. Castiel raised his eyebrows slightly, unimpressed.

“You won’t.”

“I could.” Dean raised his hands, traced his thumb along his bloodied lower lip, smearing it with red. The other hand hovered above his throat, just out of reach.  He would not be threatened. Castiel shot his hands up so very quickly, gripping the other man’s hands, pushing him back again. Dean didn’t resist. He could’ve easily. The only reason he stood there so still was that he chose to. Castiel could feel the stain of the mark beneath his fingers, a dark and violent pulse that wanted him. How could’ve Dean ever resisted something like that, something so primal, devouring. Castiel held him in place, placed a soft kiss on lips. _Please come back to me._

Dean did not like that. Castiel could feel him sneering into the kiss. There were rules to this game they were playing. Dean’s rules, and Castiel had to obey the unspoken script, follow every turn meticulously. There was only physical relief, achieved by any means necessary, nothing else. Dean pried his strong arms out of Castiel’s grip, and suddenly the angel was stumbling back from the hunter's right hook, jaw stinging. And then Dean was already upon him, fingers digging into his collar, yanking him forward for a fiercer kiss, one that didn’t leave room for breath.

 

* * *

 

 

The fourth thing Castiel had learned in time that Dean enjoyed rough sex. Bruises had often marked their exploits, fingertip-shaped marks on their thighs, bite marks on their jawlines, scraping nails trailing paths along their back muscles. Castiel had viewed it as a quirk in the beginning, but he had learned to enjoy the little sounds and expressions Dean made at the height of his pleasure, hazel eyes too far gone. The struggle had made it also easier for Dean to relinquish control, surrender to Castiel, relax trustingly under his touch. It had been a slow build to this point, with Dean struggling at first with his sexuality and Castiel's insufficient knowledge that sometimes frustrated the both of them. Dean had to teach him everything about giving and receiving pleasure, starting with how to jerk someone off. Dean had been a willing subject for that, letting Castiel explore with his hands aimlessly, even making the effort of not getting impatient when his cock was throbbing under Castiel's slow movements.

"you gotta follow-" Dean had gasped and bucked slightly when the angel's fingers had run over his tip, slick with precum, "-with how I'm reacting and letting that feeling build until..." His words had trailed off, eyes closed, when Castiel had found a steady rhythm with his hand that had brought Dean closer to the climax.

"How does that feel?" Castiel had breathed out against Dean's parted lips, marveling how the other's pleasure made his own body react and grow hotter. He had quickened his pace instinctively, when Dean had begun grinding against his hand, more needy.

"Just... _fuck_ , bliss", Dean had choked out between rapid gasps, eyes fluttering open and fixating on Castiel, before his whole body had arched when he came spilling in Castiel's hand, letting out a strangled cry, muffled by his lips, more vulnerable than Castiel had ever seen him.

 

* * *

 

 

The sting of the bruises mixed with the hungry, teeth-scraping kisses allowed Castiel to ground himself a little, although his body was screaming with yearning. He was willing to look past the abuse Dean gave him just to feel him near him. They parted from the kiss for a second, as Castiel ripped the blue, blood-stained shirt off with hurry and threw it on the floor. Castiel’s jacket was the next to go, as Dean began undressing him with the same rush, tearing his white shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. There was a strange erratic beat to his movements, like a dying star that was collapsing in on itself, pulsing self-destructive energy around them. Dean was barely containing himself, and Castiel didn’t want to be at his mercy when he went over the edge.

Dean kept backing him towards the nearest surface that could support them both, demanding hands roaming over his chest, stomach and then occupying themselves with his belt. All the while he kept  leaving sloppy kisses at Castiel’s jaw and neck, while the flushed angel struggled with his t-shirt. Their erections grinded against each other, and Castiel had to remind himself to keep some ounce of control, biting his lip against the friction. He needed to go off Dean's script, even if he wanted to believe this could be just one of their heated sexual encounters. It wasn’t though, but Castiel was burning up just as much as Dean was. His buckle came off with a clink, and Castiel used that moment to swing Dean around and throw him against the table the hunter had aimed for. He held him there, pushing him down when Dean tried to get up and slap his hand away, growling like a cornered animal.

“Uh-uh. My turn," he panted, shaking his head, holding Dean’s gaze very intently. Dean answered with a defiant look, but it lost a little bit of its edge when Castiel reached for his crotch and squeezed his hardening cock. He had learned in time how to play his body like an instrument, each action followed with reaction, beautiful music to him. Dean took in a few, measured breaths, trying clearly not to show much he enjoyed that, and then swatted his hand away again, this time reaching for his own belt and began ripping his ruined jeans off.

“Come on, get these off me”, he grunted, and Castiel helped him tear them off without telling twice, along with the rest of his clothing, leaving the man half-sprawled stark naked on the table. The first fight might be over, and Dean was now more focused about getting to the fucking than beating Castiel into a senseless pulp, but he was very aware of the fact that Dean was anything but under control. Castiel fixed his eyes on the nude man. He had never understood why seeing someone naked was such a turn-on for most humans, but seeing Dean with unveiled, raw desire in his hazel eyes, his bulky, muscled build, his hard cock between his strong thighs, awoke every time something in Castiel that made him unable to look away. Maybe his time as a human had changed how he viewed things, what he saw as beautiful, the little details.

Dean rose up, running his fingers through Castiel’s dark, messy hair, yanking him forward for a kiss, their lips all red and swollen from the rough contact, bodies molding against each other. They were fighting for the upper hand in this, with small claims of victory and Dean was trying to regain control. Dean licked his tongue against his, invading his mouth, and Castiel had had enough. He broke apart from Dean’s lips, breathless, shoving the man down with force. Dean let out a gasp that had nothing to do with pain.

“You stay down”, he let out an uncharacteristic, low drawl that stilled Dean for heartbeat. Castiel got out of his trousers quickly, letting them pool around his ankles, his erection finally freed and throbbing violently. That had been something to get used to in the beginning. Dean eyed him with vague approval, still harboring that spark of rebellion and chaotic bloodlust that he didn’t care hiding.

Mirroring his gaze, Castiel snaked his hands between Dean’s muscled thighs, spreading them wider, although Dean resisted at first, hindering the movement. Oh god. Feeling the man reluctantly starting to surrender beneath him almost drove him insane with lust. They had always had a deep connection, but the primal energy that buzzed in the air around them right now tingled Castiel to his core.

Castiel used his own saliva to coat his erection, then unceremoniously pushed two slick fingers into Dean, earning him a sharp gasp, and began hurriedly work him open, carefully avoiding the spot that made Dean melt under his touch. He had become quite good at this. Dean stayed down, ceasing his struggling but eyes still sharp, pleasure flashing in the little green flecks of his irises.

“Stop messing around", he growled impatiently, and Castiel had to suppress the sudden need to smile. This part at least felt familiar, Dean getting frustrated with him. He retreated his fingers and positioned himself, gripping Dean's hips when he pushed his cock past his entrance and into the warm tightness. Castiel let his eyes close, savor this sweet feeling for a moment, but the man underneath him wasn’t interested in letting him adjust. Dean wrapped his legs around him, pushing him even deeper, both of them trying to find their breathing in unison. Castiel thrust into him experimentally, and Dean started to fumble for something to hold on to. He grabbed Castiel’s arms, wound up higher, ending up behind his neck and pulling him forward, teeth ready to latch on to his throat. To tear out his jugular, or simply plant rough kisses there, Castiel didn’t know and frankly didn’t care. Another thrust, and his neck was hot with Dean's shaky breaths, when the man buried his head into his shoulder. He rested his head against Dean's temple, feeling his short hair tickle his cheek, sensing every part of their bodies connect, sweaty, bruised skin against skin, Dean's cock poking his stomach, him deep inside the other man.

Castiel started fucking him, slowly at first, listening in to the little gasps Dean let out with every thrust to anticipate what he wanted. Dean’s fingers dug into his scalp, and he let his hips snap against his ass more forcefully, making Dean in return sink his teeth into the tendons of his neck. The bite hurt, and he slammed his cock in as deep as he could, relishing the wave of pleasure that rippled through him, angling for that sweet spot to make Dean more compliant. It clearly worked, the man's mouth became slack, unable to suppress a breathless moan and he sagged back on the table. Castiel pried loose from his grip and continued fucking him harder, barely able to think beyond the overwhelming sensations Dean gave him. Dean was getting closer too to the climax, the predatory glint in his eyes almost diminished, just desperation for release remaining. He tried grasping for his own erection, now completely without any friction, but Castiel swatted his hand almost angrily away and wrapped his own fingers around the pulsing cock. He smeared his hand with Dean’s precum, and started jerking him off with quick movements that matched the rhythm of his hips. Dean let his whole body finally relax into the contact, head dropped down, eyes closed, his own hips bucking forward to meet Castiel, hitting that sweet spot with every rapid thrust. For a moment it was pure harmony, the bodies moving together, and he knew he was unraveling fast. Dean’s cock was already slick with seeping cum, his mouth hanging open, unable to find oxygen in his ecstasy.

“Dean, I-“ Castiel managed to gasp out, before he felt the body underneath convulse, back arching like a tuned bow, and Dean cried out brokenly when he ejaculated into Castiel’s hand and his own stomach. The erratic clenching of his muscles made sparks shoot throughout Castiel’s body, sending him over the edge, making him slam his cock in once more with a blissful moan, coming undone inside Dean.

 

* * *

 

 

The fifth thing Castiel had always known, was that Dean was constantly plagued by his self-loathing and insecurities. No amount of love or cherish could make the voices go away, striking Dean in his weakest moments.

"I hurt her real bad, Cass." Dean had said with a waver in his voice, and run his hand over his mouth, looking everywhere but Castiel. They had stood outside the bunker, Dean leaning against the Impala, as if seeking comfort from the familiar car. Castiel had shifted nervously in front of him, trying to find the other man's gaze in vain.

"Dean, you know it's the mark, not you." A wrong choice of words. Dean had glared at him like the words of comfort were poison.

"Stop telling me crap I already know! I'm _still_ the one who hurt Charlie, I was aware and I didn't stop. I would've-" Dean had stopped abruptly when his voice choked. Castiel had taken a cautious step forward, arm extended, ready to support the hunter, but Dean had swatted the hand away angrily.

"I don't need a goddamn hug, I need a way to make myself stop! Lock me up, kill me, take your fucking pick!" Dean had shouted in his face, but Castiel had seen right through his anger, the sheer terror and grief underneath, so he just had shaken his head, determined.

"I won't hurt you. I told you once I would never leave you, and this is me, right now, keeping my promise. But you have to promise me too that you won't give up, that this is you, right now, ready to fight this thing with everything you got." He had spoken passionately, standing his ground, even though Dean's eyes had darkened. He had fallen silent, and the men just had stared at one another, waiting for the other to strike next.

"I can't keep that promise, Cass." Dean had finally said, and his anger had been replaced with defeat, tarnishing his voice and leaving his posture that of a broken man.

"Yes you can!" Castiel had gripped Dean's collar tightly, hissing the words through his teeth, despair awaking the long dormant wrathful angel he had once been, blue eyes icy and demanding. But he had met only with the empty gaze of the hunter, and no matter how he had searched his eyes, he could no longer find any ounce of fight in Dean.

"Yes you can", Castiel had repeated, Dean's resignation seeping into his waning hope with its cold tendrils, making his words less convincing. He had gripped Dean, pulling him into a crushing hug, and Dean hadn't resisted. The man had felt less warm, less familiar than ever, but it was the eyes that had mostly shook Castiel to his core, leaving him terrified for the man. The eyes of someone who had given up, shrouding everything else Dean had been.

 

* * *

 

 

Their bodies stayed frozen like that for what felt like eternity, relishing in the afterglow of pleasure, although in reality it must’ve been only a few fractions of a second. Then Castiel’s spent body gave out and he collapsed on top of Dean, face buried against his collar bone. He tried to find some oxygen again, taking deep gasps of air like it was the first time he experienced breathing. Dean’s chest rose and fell rapidly underneath him, his whole body trying to regain their senses. When they stayed like this, Castiel could almost believe that this was just like the other times, like there never had existed any marks with bitter curses bound to them or any rifts between the two. He took in Dean’s scent, under the smell of sex, particles of motor oil, alcohol, gunpowder, evidence of the life he had lived. And under the warmth of his skin, the anguish of constant doubts, the strain of worry, the need to push people away, but also deep caring, the need to protect. That was all Dean, and he wasn’t the easiest person to be with, but Castiel wanted all of him, even if it meant going against his wishes. He needed to save this man.

Dean started to stir, coming up from below the surface, and he immediately began pushing Castiel off him without uttering a word. The gesture broke some little piece of Castiel that still held on to hope. Usually this was the space where Dean had allowed himself letting to be seen, even to be vulnerable, although that hadn’t been easy at first. Even accepting Castiel’s words of tender encouragement had been difficult, let alone admitting that how much he enjoyed it. But they had gotten there eventually, and Dean had proven he could be really into chick-flick-moments once he gave it a go, their limbs tangled, soft words whispered between the kisses. Now Dean didn’t spare a glance at him when he slid off the table, searching for his clothes and then discarding them when he saw the shape they were in. Stark naked, he headed towards his room, walking little uneven. Castiel got up too, feeling so empty all of a sudden now that he had been bled dry of every inflamed thought, every accusation and all that anger and primal lust. He picked up his clothes, slipping his trousers back on, not minding his sticky body, examining the ruined shirt Dean had ripped off. That wasn’t the only thing that needed fixing, he thought, eyes flicking back to the bodies.

Castiel heard steady footsteps approach the room, and straightened his back to brace himself to face Dean. The man entered, clean of blood and in fresh clothes, a steely expression hardening his features. Dean walked straight to him, cupping his face, and without any hint of emotion, pressed their lips together, stealing a rough kiss. Castiel let it happen, standing still, so not to aggravate the other man. But Dean pulled away just as quick and started walking towards the stairs, and seeing him leave made Castiel’s insides twist and turn, a feeling that something would permanently break if he let the man go.

“Dean”, he started, not quite knowing how to continue, regret and sorrow coloring the single word with deep meaning. The hunter didn’t stop, didn’t even turn his head.

“Stop trying to save me.” Every word floated through the silence, like they had no place to go, but finally they thudded through Castiel’s body like heavy rocks. Dean opened the door and was gone. And the utter sense of failure surrounded Castiel, who still stood in the middle of all that destruction, and it was screaming loud, making him almost bend down under its pressure. He needed to save that man and no gods would stand in his way.

**Author's Note:**

> Ho boy I got a bit carried away there. Angry, violent men are apparently my thing, and I'm happy I found an excuse to make them have hatesex, as they are just so adorable and cuddly most of the time.
> 
> Working on the third part of the series now. I decided to make them into their own oneshots, as the tone of the stories varies greatly. Haven't gotten enough of emotionally torturing those two :D let me know what you think!


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